“That was so exciting!” said Needle. "Dropping Orak's head at his own feet... that had class. I'm guessing that was Revol's idea."

Solomon folded his arms, then rubbed his temples, then stood and turned to leave. “I’ll be in my bunk. Tell me when we’re there.”

“No.”

Solomon stopped to look over his shoulder. “Excuse me?”

Needle made a show of taking his hands off the helm. “I said no. If we’re going to work together, we need to bond.”

Solomon left the cockpit, but after a few steps he stopped, grumbled and turned. Needle was leaning against the doorway with his arms folded.

“Allright Needle, we’ll bond.” He pointed his finger, stopping the Sentinel in the middle of a mocking dance. “But you’re going to stop this fake absurdity. I don’t suffer fools, damnit. Behave like a man and we’ll talk like men.”

Needle was quiet for a moment, then nodded, though it seemed a nod of judgement rather than a nod of agreement. “Watch the stars with me, Sol, and I’ll give you sensible conversation.”

Solomon wanted to go lay down in peace, but something in Needle’s voice drew him along, even though he’d been wanting to change out of his armor. He did take off his skullfort, setting it on the floor by the navigator’s chair.

“How often do you travel with others?” he asked.

“Do prisoners count?” Needle asked in reply.

Solomon ignored the comment. He watched the stars, letting his guard down enough to appreciate their beauty.

“You ever forget about the stars,” Needle asked, “when you’re commuting from world to world? I find that the older I get, the more often I take them for granted."

“It’s easy to do.”

“We get so caught up in things. And that happens on every level, mind you.”

“What do you mean?”

Needle activated the autopilot, then slid his chair back and put his feet on his console. “I mean it’s not just us movers and shakers who get lost in minutiae. I’ve watched the common people closely over the centuries. They’re just as intent on folding their laundry as we are on saving Briah.”

“But they have the comfort of knowing their laundry should be folded.”

“You don’t think Briah should be saved?”

Solomon crossed his leg. “I wonder if we can.”

“Well, the term Briah... it’s more of an idea than a place, really. But that’s the plane the Tangents wage their real war on, isn’t it?”

“I never would have taken you for such an anthroposophist, Needle.”

“Why? Because I refuse to have my personality sanitized?”

“Your brothers and sisters don’t fear Samhadi.”

Needle rolled his head to face Solomon and scoffed. “They’ve forgotten what it’s like to live without pining for penance.”

“Or perhaps it’s given them peace.”

Needle shook his head. “No. It hasn’t given anything.”

“Your people are content, Needle. There’s much to be said for that.”

“But can you imagine what they’d become if they weren’t content, Solomon?”

“I don’t have to imagine. I’ve fought the Surge, lest you forget.”

Needle scoffed again. “We’re as much like them as Harbingers are Neanderthals. My people would be mighty if not for Samhadi.”

“I see.” Solomon held his gaze.

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“What?”

“You’re not really helping Holloway defend Samhadi, are you?”

Needle threw his head back and laughed. “Oh boy, that’s... that’s rich, Sol. As if he could even...”

“Even what?”

“Even anything. Joshua, as much as I like the guy, is a confidence man who dabbles in information brokering. How is he going to defend something as important as Samhadi?”

“I imagine that’s why he turned to you. But you’re going to let him down, aren’t you?”

“I let people down every day, Sol. You know something about that.”

“Don’t turn this on me, Needle. Whatever you think of Samhadi, or the effect it’s had on your species, consider the timing.”

“I have, Sol. Carefully. Don’t worry. Samhadi’s going to be fine. I have vastly more effective agents looking into it than Holloway.”

“Yes. The mamani justicar.”

“Now there’s a useful individual. You know, I was standing five feet away from him, and after glancing away for a couple seconds, I looked back and thought he’d run off. That’s how hard those people are to keep track of.”

“You should recruit more of them, then.”

“Sensus should recruit more of them. Speaking of sneaky allies, your Shadow Children sure have settled in.”

“Quite nicely. I’ve had to warn them not to get too comfortable, in fact.”

“I have a question about them, if you don’t mind.”

“I may not answer, but ask.”

Needle sat up and turned to face Solomon. “Why did you send them into Briah while you were still in Ulro?”

Solomon turned his eyes to the viewport, catching the subtle pulse of a neutron star. “Are you asking me why I lingered in Ulro so long?”

“I suppose I am. Did you try to fool Haleon and Topar? Or did you really go native?”

“I sent the Shadow Children for two reasons. One being that I wanted people in Braih to know about them.”

“I see. Smart. Give the agents Ulro sent over here something to think about. One more question, and feel free to pass on this one too. Why don’t you send them to hunt down the Anunnaki?”

Solomon took a deep, quiet breath. “Because I care about them.”

“I see. Well, I care about my Shadow Children too. Samhadi will be safe. Assuming the worst hasn’t happened already.”

Solomon glanced at the navigational display. “We’ll know soon. We’re almost there.”

“Then off to Never Land?”

“Then off to find a very old friend.”

“Ah, old Yamin’s little zombie. How many did he make of those things? Did he go for the full ten?”

“You can ask Hod when we find him.”

“The bones speak, do they?”

“If you ask them a question worth answering.”

Needle put his feet back on the console and folded his arms behind his head. “That, my friend, is what I’ve been searching for for as long as I can remember.”

They were quiet for a while, which Solomon was grateful for. But eventually he asked Needle a question. “What is your real agenda, Needle? Is it something that can be spoken?”

“Huh. My agenda is simple. My desire, however, is much more complex, and much more important.”

“Is that a pass, then?”

“I’m as likely to lay out my agenda to you as you are to lay out yours to me. I’ll make you this deal, though. I’ll tell you my desire if you tell me yours.”

Solomon nodded. “I’ll bite.”

“I desire knowledge, Sol. Okay, your turn. What does the great Solomon of the Seventh Seal desire?”

“Ha! The Seventh Seal! Have you been spying on me that long?”

Needle shrugged. “All of Imogen’s little Ohrlings were of interest to me. Your little warband was entertaining.”

“We were idiots.”

“You were young. Okay, no more stalling. What do you desire?”

“I desire...” In his mind he travelled through the years, seeing the symbols that had created him, Platonic solids of dream and vision and anxious presentiment. “I desire truth.”

Needle was silent for several minutes before responding. “Well, it seems our agendas may overlap a little afterall. Hey, there they are. Wow, you really did piss Eno off.”

Albion, the wandering Eden, the Universal home of Woman and Man, the bastion against the tempest, was no longer the home Solomon knew. It had changed from a strong, graceful generation ship to a wild, beastly effigy. Glowing tendrils sprouted from between its folded wings like hair, and Urim and Thummim had detached, settling in dual orbits around Albion; one near, one far.”

“Wheels within wheels within wheels within wheels,” Needle mused.

“But why here?”

Needle turned to look at him. “You don’t know?”

“Needle, you’ll find that my life’s work has been a desperate clambering to fill the vast gaps of knowledge in my addled and nearly empty mind. I had a feeling Albion might come here, but why, I can only guess. Allright, turn us around. I’ve seen enough.”

Needle tapped at his helm and banked Iron Catastrophe, his vintage Nimravus scout ship, in the direction of the Phrastus Belt and opened a wormhole, leaving behind them Albion and the world it now orbited like a living moon; Bindhu Prime, the Temple of Fiends.